Dunrobin Rain ( Read more... )

I'm writing broken bits of bad poetry
taking my coffee cold
watching the ice melt in the empty glass
and waiting,
waiting.

Come to the center of me
shyness becomes you
you were made to gaze through long lashes
to evade capture
and to walk in a zigzag pattern

but I am here waiting
on a path is lined with flowers
and perhaps with cut glass
You will bleed.

Snow White and Rose Red
were lovers. When the guests had left
and the coffee cups were drying on the rack
Snow White drew Red into her arms
saying, "I could barely keep my hands off you tonight!"

And Rose Red backed her gently against the wall
to kiss her willing mouth.

I dreamt of pomegranates
of round red seeds
scattered on a white cloth
and so I bought one
with papery skin
but have not peeled it

You see I've always feared them
the jelly-like bits people seem to love--
something's obscene in that red slipperiness--
and so the pomegranate sits
unopened on the counter.

I write a long word on your thigh
in cursive
with chocolate-colored ink
You feel the sable brush along your skin
And then
I taste the word with lips and tongue.

Come to me, moon daughter
come to me, dark-haired girl
let me taste your raspberry lips
let me fall into your chocolate eyes.

When you love something beautiful ( Read more... )

When does porn
ever face itself?
Disguise my desire as a man's
and send away the women.

She is Snow White, and I am Rose Red
all along the edge of the forest we wandered
first talking, and then silent in each other's company
she found a flower, and showed me, and I looked at it
I looked down at her hand
and up into her laughing eyes
and I took the flower.